Tests
by Latitude24
Summary: Cal is planning his next move, but Gillian has some news that throws him.


Another Monday, and she hadn't had a date this weekend. That was excellent. Cal slouched back in his chair, hands folded over his stomach, slowly rotating with his foot and assessed the situation. All right, Foster had been divorced for 6 months and good riddance to her loser addict ex-husband. Cal never understood exactly why she married that spineless, lying bastard in the first place, but at least he was totally out of the picture now. If they'd been able to keep Sophie, he'd still be around, so maybe that was a small blessing. One more life he couldn't screw up.

In these 6 months, he'd seen Gillian evolve from heartbroken, afraid and lost into a confident, happy woman who had rediscovered her worth. He'd carefully (and secretly) monitored her dating life, making sure that none of the bankers or lawyers got too close. Everyone had a rebound relationship, no matter how brief, and Cal wanted to make sure that relationship was already past. He did get quite a scare from that one divorce lawyer. Despite his warning—"You know, love, a divorce lawyer is 62% more likely to be unfaithful than any other profession", which was complete bollocks, but she couldn't really be certain—she went on a fourth date with him before deciding that he had too large an ego and too small a sense of humor.

Yeah, he could admit it to himself. He was completely and utterly in love with her. Had been for years, but until now he could never act on it. There were times, he sensed, when he could have made a move, like after the copycat rapist almost dragged her away and Alec was out of town, when he'd ached to do more than hold her, and she probably would have reciprocated, but despite most people's opinion, he did have a deeply ingrained sense of honor. He couldn't take advantage when she was weak.

So, when to make his move? He'd been gradually testing the waters by flirting a bit more, allowing her to catch him checking her out now and then (especially when she wore that red dress), going out to dinner more often, inviting her over for working dinners that ended in watching a movie, including her when he had Emily, that sort of thing. Essentially, they were dating without the physical part, and he was tired of shoving his hands into his pockets at the end of an evening to prevent them from pulling her to him and kissing her for an hour.

Well, Valentine's Day was coming up, but that was strictly amateur night. Besides, Foster actually despised Valentine's Day.

"_You're joking!" he'd exclaimed. "A soppy romantic like you? I'd have thought that February 14__th__ would be marked on your calendar with a giant pink heart!"_

_Foster had made a disgusted face. "What's romantic about a bouquet of red roses, a box of chocolates and dinner in an expensive restaurant when the rest of the world is doing the exact same thing at the same time?"_

_Cal had shaken his head. "Then you've never dated a man with any creativity."_

_Foster smiled a little dreamily. "I did once."_

"_Oh?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. "And when was that?"_

"_In seventh grade. Tommy O'Hara punched Stephen Knowles in the nose because Stephen was always really mean to me."_

"_That must have been fantastic!"_

"_Oh, it was. Blood everywhere!" They both laughed. "Tommy was my boyfriend until he moved away that summer."_

_Cal smiled teasingly. "Hard to compete with that."_

So Valentine's Day was out. Too hard to have a leisurely dinner, anyway. He'd ask her to dinner the week after. There was a steak and seafood restaurant that they'd both been meaning to try since it opened last year. He'd checked out the menu online and they had some sort of incredible banana and chocolate thing for dessert. Perfect.

"I'm going to take off, Cal."

He was jolted from his thoughts when Gillian suddenly appeared at his door. She looked almost nervous.

"Everything all right?"

She nodded once unconvincingly and moved as if to leave but didn't.

He cocked his head and studied her face. Anxiety. Fear?

"What is it, love?" he asked, more gently.

She reluctantly came into his office and stood near the front of his desk.

"I, uh, have something I have to do tomorrow morning, so I might be a little late."

Cal stood and moved next to her, trying to read her face.

"What's wrong, Gill?

She glanced at him and then down and away. Shame? What the hell for?

He waited patiently.

Finally, she heaved a big sigh. "I have to go to a clinic to get tested."

His mouth hung open. "Tested? For what?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "Because Alec was cheating on me and not always using a condom."

A ball of ice formed in his stomach. "Oh, Gill." He helplessly brushed her arm with a hand. "But it's been—"

"Six months, I know. When I found out that he was cheating with his 'sponsor' I basically interrogated him. Of course he lied, again, but I could see it all over his face. He wasn't very careful, but what else can you expect from an addict? They don't exercise the best judgment, do they?"

He leaned back against his desk, unsure of what to say.

Gillian sighed again. "As soon as I knew, I got tested for the usual suspects, except not for HIV, since that can be undetected in the beginning. So I told myself that I'd wait six months and get tested for that."

"Bloody hell, Gill. You've been thinking about this all this time?"

She understood the subtext. "I didn't tell you because I didn't know anything. And," she glanced at him, "you'd be looking at me like that for six months."

He stared to shake his head, but she was right. He would have hovered and fretted the entire time. "So it's tomorrow morning then?"

"8 o'clock. I want to get it over with."

Still she looked down. He wanted to tell her not to worry, but of course she had good reason to worry. Instead, he put a hand on her shoulder.

"I'll go with you."

Now she looked at him. "Cal, you don't have to—"

"I mean, I'll go and get tested, too."

"What? Why?"

She had an odd look on her face that made him fidget.

"So you won't have to go through it alone."

"Cal—"

"Where is it?"

She paused, then named a clinic on the other side of the city.

"Okay. I'll meet you there before 8, then."

"Thanks, Cal," she said in an almost whisper.

He leaned in and gave her a hug, stroking her back, and quick kiss on the cheek. "Now, have you eaten? Do want to get some dinner?"

She shook her head. "Thanks, Cal, but I'm really not hungry. Raincheck?"

He smiled. "Of course, love."

They wouldn't receive the results for 10 days at the soonest, even though Cal made an unsuccessful attempt to move the process along faster, so both Cal and Gillian threw themselves into work. The cases were routine; nothing overly exciting or difficult, so both were functioning on autopilot.

The days passed slowly, neither mentioning the test, but the silences between them were thick rather than comfortable. They wouldn't talk about it, but thought of little else. Cal acknowledged how ironic it would be if now that they were free to explore a possible life outside of the office, she could be taken from him. He wasn't naive enough to believe that it couldn't happen. Gillian felt his eyes on her often, and instead of feeling comforted, she wanted to run and hide. He could always say so much with his looks, and she found that this week, she didn't want to listen.

Cal broke first. At the end of Monday, after not seeing her all weekend, he marched down to her office with a bottle and two glasses. He poked his head inside and found her sitting on her comfortable chair in the corner, reading a report.

"Hey."

She looked up and smiled. That was good. "Hey."

He held up the bottle. "Fancy a drink?"

"Sure."

He strode in and sat on the sofa and poured both of them a shot.

He gestured towards the report. "What's that?"

She tossed it onto the coffee table. "Just another cheating spouse case."

"We going to take it?"

She shrugged. "We need the money." Her face was calm, but her neck and shoulders were tense.

He regarded her for a moment. "It's only a few more days, love."

She flicked her gaze to him and away. "I know."

Another moment of silence before he spoke. "Well, I guess if you weren't over Alec before, this would do it then, wouldn't it?"

She took a sip and sighed, curling her feet under her. "I was already over him. I think I started getting over him when I suspected he was cheating."

Cal slouched back and propped his feet on the coffee table. "What was it then? What was it about him in the first place?"

She looked at him steadily. "You never did like him."

His face remained neutral. "Didn't matter what I thought."

She nodded slightly. "But there was a reason."

Cal contemplated the amber liquid in the glass, trying to state his feelings diplomatically. "I thought he was weak. Didn't know about the drug thing then."

"He _is_ weak."

He pointed at her. "You're not."

She half laughed. "Sometimes I am."

He shook his head. "Making a bad choice now and then doesn't mean you're weak. It means you're human."

She was pensively silent long enough that he thought that maybe she wouldn't say anything else.

"Do you know what it's like growing up with an alcoholic parent?" She asked suddenly in a resentful tone. "Everything and everyone revolves around _that_ person. The house is in constant chaos. You never know when you come home what you'll find. Will he be drunk this time? Will there be fighting? Laughing? Crying? Will he even be there, or will everyone be waiting for him to come home, and not knowing what to expect? Nobody really cares that you got an A on your science test, or were the high scorer on your basketball team that week. It's all about the addict."

She took another small sip and continued in a calmer tone. "Children of alcoholics usually grow up and either become an alcoholic, marry one or choose the exact opposite: someone calm and predictable and safe. That was my choice."

He watched her sympathetically. He didn't want to interrupt now that she'd started.

"And it was okay for a while. No fireworks, we never had the…passion…that you and Zoë had."

He shifted uncomfortably. "Passion is sometimes misdirected, love."

She flashed him a smile and continued. "I mean, we never came home from work and ripped each other's clothes off as soon as we got in the door, but I was okay with that because we never had screaming fights, either. Everything was…steady."

She dropped her head back and looked at the ceiling. "I knew Alec had a drug problem, but I believed that it was possible that he had beaten it. He grew up in a normal home with a normal family. He was a professional with ambition who was going places. And he wasn't using when I met him. I hoped that it was all in the past."

"Hoped?"

She looked at Cal again. "Hoped. Because I never was able to completely trust him. I was waiting for that one thing that would send him back to using."

She heaved a deep sigh. "And that happened when we lost Sophie. That was the test and he failed it."

"I'm sorry, love."

She shrugged. "I was trying to make something work that couldn't have. It's better that it ended."

They finished their drinks.

"You _can_ have both, love."

She looked at him questioningly.

"Passion and trust."

She smiled and ducked her head. "I know."

He tossed back the rest of his drink and stood before he could say something too revealing. "Night, love."

Cal knew on Friday morning that Gillian had received the results. She was distracted and agitated all day. Bad news? His stomach crawled with fear, but he chose to say nothing until the end of the day.

He barged into her office with a confidence he didn't feel and said without preamble, "So? What's the result then?"

She was standing by the window, hands twisting in front of her. "I don't know yet."

He looked at her incredulously.

"It came in the mail yesterday, but I've been afraid to open it."

Cal reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out an envelope. "Got mine on Wednesday, but I haven't opened it yet, either."

She gave a nervous chuckle.

"Look," he said reasonably, "whatever the results, waiting to find out won't change anything."

She nodded.

"Why don't we go by yours and open them together, yeah?"

She looked at him with gratitude. "That would be good."

He bustled about, taking her coat from the hanger. "Come on, then, get your stuff and let's be off."

She smiled and let him usher her out the door and to their cars.

Once at Gillian's, Cal lost some of his bluster. They stood in her living room, coats still on, staring at the envelope on the coffee table as if it were an unexploded bomb.

She inhaled tremulously. "Well, I suppose we should get it over with."

She hung both of their coats in the hall closet and resumed standing in front of the coffee table, wiping her palms on her dress.

"How about a drink first?" he suggested.

She went into the kitchen and poured them each a drink.

They both tossed them back immediately.

"Gill," he began, "whatever it says—"

"Let's just get it over with. Like ripping off a bandage."

He handed her his envelope and picked up hers from the coffee table.

"All right?"

She nodded shakily and they both ripped open the envelopes. She glanced at his test results, then glued her eyes to his face, afraid to breathe as she watched his eyes scan the page. Finally, the lines on his forehead relaxed and he looked up, smiling.

"All right, love. It's negative."

She let her breath out in a whoosh, laughing a little. "Oh, thank God!"

Cal dropped the paper on the sofa and pulled her against him, rocking her back and forth. She hugged him back, pressing her face against his neck.

"And?" he prompted.

"What? Oh! You're fine. Fine. We're both fine."

He pulled back without letting go and kissed her close to her mouth. "That's great, darling."

She gave him a huge smile of pure joy, not letting go either, one hand stroking his neck above his collar.

He grinned back and kissed her briefly and chastely, half on the lips. "We should celebrate."

She nodded, her eyes shining. "We should."

He paused, then kissed her again on the mouth. And again. Gently, without pressure, more like nudges with his lips than actual kisses. He didn't even close his eyes, so it couldn't count as kissing, not really. She wasn't pulling away, so he continued until she made an impatient noise in her throat and tugged at his neck a bit.

That was all the encouragement Cal needed. Suddenly he was kissing her for real, eyes closed, hands pushing through her hair, body pressed against hers. His tongue brushed against her bottom lip a few times until she opened her mouth to him, kicking off her shoes in the process.

Oh, God, she was kissing him back. Frantically. And shoving his jacket off his shoulders. He shrugged it off without breaking the kiss and tossed it blindly towards the sofa. Now her hands were sliding across his shoulders, down his back and pulling his hips against hers. Ohhhh, God. He could feel himself rapidly hardening, pressing against her belly.

Gillian smiled as she nuzzled his throat; he smelled so good, tasted good, felt good, the firm heat of him against her. God, this felt so good, so right, it's been too long since she'd—oh, now he was nibbling on her neck just below her ear and his hands were gripping her ass and he was grinding against her and _oh_, she could feel the dampness starting in her panties and her knees were feeling wobbly, but he held her up, held her against him, so she knew that she couldn't fall.

She was desperate to feel his skin, so she began to unbutton his shirt with quick, jerky movements. She pushed the shirt off his shoulders and tugged impatiently at his tee shirt. Cal complied and ripped both over his head in an instant and groaned when he felt her hands, followed by her lips, on his chest, then travel lower towards his waist, his stomach muscles trembling beneath her touch. Before she could go any farther, he fumblingly unzipped her dress, hands shaking, blood pounding in his ears.

Gillian shimmied out of her dress and kicked it aside, gasping as she felt his fingers slide her bra straps from her shoulders and unhook her, then felt his lips trail down her throat to between her breasts and nudge her bra so that it fell to the floor. Her body rose up to his mouth, which was nibbling and licking first one tight nipple, then the other, literally swooning, her hips jerking against him.

Cal paused, face between her breasts, breathing heavily, as Gillian unbuttoned his pants, pushed them past his hips and reached into his briefs and cupped his ass, yanking him harder against her. This was too much, moving way too fast, but neither could help it. He slid a hand down her belly, then lower, into her panties, stroking her. Oh _God_, she was so wet, impossibly wet already, rubbing against his fingers, getting wetter still.

In response, Gillian dragged down his briefs and grasped his fully hard cock, cupping his balls. He grunted and kissed her frantically and deeply as she teasingly rubbed a thumb just under the head, smearing the wetness as he thrust against her.

Gillian's legs were quivering in a way that she knew she couldn't stand up much longer, so, one hand still holding his cock and one around his waist, she pulled him to the floor with her. He followed her down, then pushed off his pants and briefs, and continued kissing and stroking her. She was writhing against him now, making a groaning noise deep in her throat, and he was panting harshly, when she pulled him to her and pressed him inside of her, gazing so intently into his eyes that he shivered with, what? Lust? Love? Both?

Oh, _GOD_. He wanted to take this slow, to savor this moment, but oh, she was so hot and wet and he couldn't remember the last time he was inside a woman bare like this, and besides, it was _Gillian_, Gillian pulsing around him, drawing him in, bucking her hips against him.

On pure instinct he plunged into her, filling her, as her legs rose up so he could push deeper. She was moaning steadily now, stroking the hot satin of his back, pulling back and pushing forward as he did, the rhythm ancient and primal, and God, when was the last time, had she ever felt completely taken like this, felt this desperate need before?

Soon, way too soon, their movements became frenzied and erratic, and Cal knew he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer, so he reached down and stroked her clit with his thumb. Suddenly, she stiffened, then thrashed against him, clutching him with arms and legs, shuddering and spasming. As her inner walls gripped him, he let go, a hot white light bursting through him, pure ecstasy taking hold as he emptied himself inside her, collapsing on top of her, weak and sated.

They lay there, twitching with aftershocks, while their breathing returned to normal. Cal suddenly realized that he was lying on top of her, pressing her into the floor, so he rolled them both over, softening but still inside of her. Gillian gave a deep sigh and nuzzled the sparse hair in the center of his chest, breathing him in.

Cal felt their combined moisture pooling on his lower belly and was deeply ashamed. What the hell was he thinking? He had sworn that he would never take advantage of her, never do something like this when she was vulnerable. God, what a selfish bastard he was.

She looked up at him, but he couldn't meet her eyes.

"God, Cal," she said, still a little breathless, "you really know how to celebrate."

Finally, stroking her back, he said quietly "I'm sorry, love."

She studied his face. Shame. She smiled and replied gently "For what? For probably the best 7 minutes of my life?"

Oh, there it was. He was blushing now, which she found absolutely adorable, and looking just over her left shoulder. He brushed her hair off her face with the backs of his hands, sighing. "I didn't want it like this for you, Gill. I wanted to take it slow. Go out to dinner, maybe some flowers, not—not—"

She smiled, suppressed laughter bubbling up in her voice, "Not rutting like two animals in heat?"

His blush intensified and she laughed out loud.

He finally looked her in the eyes uncertainly, but all he saw was absolute, total love.

"Cal, that was exquisite."

"Really?" he asked skeptically.

"Really," she replied, moving up to kiss him, causing him to fall out of her.

He caught her face with his hands, beaming love back at her, and leisurely explored her mouth.

"I can do slow, too" he mumbled against her lips, "slow and excruciating."

"Mmmm," she purred as her stomach suddenly gave a huge growl.

He pulled back and looked at her, grinning. "When was the last time you ate a proper meal, woman?"

She shrugged. "Haven't had much of an appetite lately."

He flailed a hand, finding her panties, and wiped both of them off. "Well, let's get you something to eat. I predict that you're going to need your strength this weekend."

They stood, legs still quaking a bit, Cal pulling on his pants and Gillian slipping into his shirt. God, she looked sexy as hell. He smiled and pulled her against him, his stubble prickling her neck.

"Food, then shower?" he murmured.

He felt her nod against him and say, "And then, maybe, slow and excruciating?"

"Definitely, darling. Definitely."


End file.
